


Melt

by copperboom



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, One Shot, PWP, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperboom/pseuds/copperboom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a rare winter day in Beacon Hills, Stiles and Derek play in the snowy woods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melt

**Author's Note:**

> I'm one of the slowest writers in the history of time (I've been working on three different fics for over six months, no jokes) so I decided to take prompts and pairings and write fics in a few hours off of them and just post them. This is the first -- Sterek and Snow.

Stiles tore through the forest, branches scraping at his scalp, the frigid wind biting his cheeks. He had no direction, no thought except _away_ , no drive except _faster_. He could feel him coming, so close, but he didn't know how close or how far; objects at rear may be closer than they appear. He just knew he had to keep running. He had to win.

The snow was strange, a foreign texture under the slick, worn rubber of his shoes. It hadn't snowed in California in his lifetime. He didn't have gloves, a hat -- none of the normal stuff. Hell, Stiles wasn't even sure what was normal, a few movies and tv shows not preparing him for the real thing. It made it hard to see, sifting down from the sky, lighting on eyebrows and eyelashes and slipping into his sight. It made it hard to breathe, sucking in bitingly cold yet wet lungfuls of air that lashed at the inside of his lungs. But he kept going, sliding down short hills, slinging himself around sturdy tree trunks, the red of his faded hoodie a dull blur in the dark winter woods.

Then, he made one error, one small little slip, and fell like the skinniest sapling, all awkward limbs and ungainly core. His hands hit the dirt first and he cursed as he felt claws cut down into his vest, jerking him over and around onto his back. Stiles's brows slammed down and he snarled up at his captor, unintimidated by the fucking ridiculous red glow of his eyes. "Derek, seriously, this is the only vest I have to wear in the snow and Dad's going to kill me for -- what're you doing? Are you -- are you sniffing me?"

The Alpha growled, tilting Stiles's head back with one heavy hand, thrusting his face down into his neck and snuffling. Unsatisfied, he tried licking the skin, making Stiles squirm. "Seriously, Wolf Man, what is up? Not that I mind my boyfriend taking a whiff, but usually it's not your introductory move."

"Usually you smell more." The words were in that hot, low grunt that made Stiles arch just a little, rubbing against the thigh that had been shoved between his legs. It told Stiles the Alpha was still in control, though he could feel the tips of the claws retracting, pads of Derek's fingers circling in his hair as he pushed forward, nose first.

Stiles wriggled. "What is that supposed to mean?" He tried for indignant, but it came out more as mildly bothered. And not the kind of bothered he was trying to be.

"Don't know." Derek pushed himself up, features of the Alpha slowly melting away; he ignored the transformation, instead slipping his hands underneath Stiles's t-shirt and tugging, baring him to the winter weather. "Just -- you smell cold. Not like you. You were harder to track." He frowned. "I don't like it."

"Sorry I don't stink enough for you," Stiles said, rolling his eyes. "Who knew snow would be your kryptonite. But -- Derek, stop, god, it's freezing out here! It -- we shouldn't -- ahh --- " And there was suddenly a hand, hot as a brick straight out of the oven, shoved down the front of his pants, gripping his cock through the thin layer of his boxers, gently massaging. The play on temperatures -- hot cock, cold torso -- was making him writhe already, pleasure causing him to ignore the scrape of the hard ground. "I'm never -- never ever ever -- playing Cat and Mouse with you again. Dog and Cat. Wolf and Boy. Wolf and Man. Never."

Derek just laughed, a soft huff of a thing, dimples popping out; that made Stiles smile in turn and reach up to yank him down for a kiss. His lips were icy against the warmth of Derek's, but their tongues were the same as they tangled together, tasting each other, the flavor familiar but welcome.

Derek shifted above him to tug at his pants, so Stiles let his mouth slip down, biting at the strong lines of Derek's collarbone, making his own mark as he thought a wolf's mate was entitled to do. Derek growled and flipped them over, somehow yanking Stiles's jeans down in the process so his bare, cold ass slapped right into Derek's hard dick as he ended up cradled between the Alpha's thighs. "When did you even ... ?" he asked, then watched incredulously as Derek ripped a packet open with his teeth and squirted the lube onto his fingers. "Is there a werewolf be-prepared motto? Like the Boy Scouts but with more bloodshed?" Derek just huffed that half-laugh and reached back, shifting Stiles with his thighs until he was right where he needed to be.

The lube was cold and thick, which was really the opposite of what someone wanted in their lube, but Derek's blunt fingertips massaging into him heated it up quickly enough, smearing it around his hole in teasing little circles then suddenly up, deep, two fingers solidly inside of him. Stiles ground down onto them with an aborted wail, dick so hard it was leaking against the white expanse of his stomach. "Mmm, yeah," Derek said, sniffing the air. "I can definitely smell you now."

Stiles's breath hitched, gasp and laugh intertwined. "You -- are so -- gross." He finally got the words out, then paused to suck in another lungful of air and let out what wasn't a whimper. Wasn't. "I'm so asking Allison if Scott is this weird."

"Weird but prepared," Derek replied, and Stiles opened his eyes just long enough to see Derek rip open another packet, this time a condom; Stiles took it from him without thinking, reaching to roll it down Derek's hard length. His Alpha's eyes darkened, the gold ringing his pupils almost swallowed up by the black. He lifted Stiles up by the hips, preternatural strength coming in handy, and Stiles would swear they both hissed as he was lowered down, inch by ragged inch, onto Derek's cock. They both paused for a minute as Derek bottomed out, balls tight to Stiles's ass, fingers gripping purple bruises into the jut of his hipbones. They just stared at each other, caught in the mist of snow and heat of their bodies, until Derek's smile flashed again. "Besides, you love it."

Stiles sank down onto him, chest against chest, mouths and breath teasing each other. "Yeah," he said, licking his lips, tongue just brushing against Derek. "Yeah, I do."

And then there was no more talking as Derek, helplessly, thrust up into him, setting the pace at hard and fast, not that Stiles had any problem with that. He rode Derek's cock as best he could, hips slipping up and down in time with Derek's thrusts, hands wrapped around Derek's ribcage as they stared at each other and fucked, hot and sweet and just so perfectly fucking fast.

Derek, as always, knew exactly where to hit Stiles so it hurt the best, popping against his prostate on every third thrust, making him tremble and skip a beat, pushing down like he could get Derek just that much further into him, a searing column of flesh that was heating him up from the inside out.

Finally, frustrated, Stiles shoved his hand into Derek's face, making a quick, imperious "come on" gesture. Derek grinned as he licked up the length of Stiles's palm then on to his fingers, pausing to bite and suck at their tips, then repeated the movement, over and over, until Stiles's hand was dripping, matching the state of his cock as he wrapped the wetness around himself and pulled. His breath whirled white into the air, meeting and melding with the steam rising from both their bodies now, and he gave an extra twist at the head of his cock as he felt himself get so close, so fucking close. "D-Derek, Derek, fuck, please." 

Derek slammed into him, and his hand reached around and a finger just pressed, right at the top of Stiles's hole, and just the threat, just the _thought_ of him shoving it inside, stretching him -- Stiles came, rough, arching, cum splattering into the air to fall across Derek's belly and chest.

He collapsed onto him, totally blissed out, the warm, sweet feeling of Derek thrusting up into his well-used hole making him smile; he tucked it away into the curve of Derek's neck and bit, fast and hard, where he had before, and Derek's hips stuttered and he shoved up one last time and came, jetting into the condom, ass arched up off the ground.

Stiles had no idea how long they lay there, or when he'd slid down from Derek's chest to end up laying at his side in the snowy bracken. He only came back to himself when he heard Derek sniff, yet again.

"All Stiles," Derek said, rubbing his nose up and down Stiles's neck, just lightly enough to irritate.

"Great. Glad to know I'm back to stinking up the place." Stiles frowned a little, pushing at him.

"No. It doesn't stink. It's like ... old books, and chocolate chip cookies, and gasoline."

"I smell like gas?!" Stiles tried to pull back but Derek's arm wrapped around him, holding him firmly in place.

"It's a good smell. Like the Jeep." Derek nuzzled him, grinning. "You love the Jeep. I love the Jeep. It's been good to us."

"Yeah, well." Stiles grumbled to himself, charmed but not willing to admit it. 

They stayed there together, Derek's nose firmly in the hollow of Stiles's neck and shoulder, for what felt like hours. Finally, though, the heat of their activities wore off and the chill weight of the snow fell down onto him.

"Um, Derek. Not that I don't love you being my personal space heater, but ... "

"You want to get inside?" He could feel Derek's smile against his cheek.

"Oh yeah. Hell yeah. Let's go." Stiles hopped to his feet and jerked his pants up, buttoning them as quickly as he could, fingers cold and clumsy. Then he looked down at Derek who was still reclining lazily against the ground. "Last one there makes the cocoa!" 

And he took off, sprinting through the snow, Derek's laugh carried up and around him by the winter wind.


End file.
